


my lover's got humour he's the giggle at a funeral

by buckybunnyteeth



Category: The Losers (2010), The Losers (Comic)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, DADT mention, First Meetings, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 17:06:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14938373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckybunnyteeth/pseuds/buckybunnyteeth
Summary: Sgt. Alvarez. Who is looking at him with a distinctly amused look on his face.Competent, kind, sexy killing machine. If he’s good with kids than Jensen’s done for.Or; Jensen meets Cougar for the first time and is weak.





	my lover's got humour he's the giggle at a funeral

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cg_reads](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cg_reads/gifts).



“That's the kind of guy you'd follow to hell and back.”

― Richelle Mead, The Indigo Spell

 

Jensen is being patched up by Pooch after being shot in the calf by a Croatian dick bag who worked for a Russian drug running dick bag, and he’s really _really_ done with the whole situation.

“I’m _bored_ ,” he whines, the painkillers already kicking in, “And this safe house smells like shit.”

“This whole country smells like shit,” Roque growls.

“Don’t associate your xenophobic self with me.”

Roque glares and reaches for his biggest knife. Clay rolls his eyes at them both.

“Why can’t we ever go anywhere nice on a mission,” Jensen whines, “like Australia.”

“Australia is not as nice as you think it is.”

“It looks good in those commercials. All relaxed and suntanned, barbeques everywhere.”

“Its got the same post-colonial racist problems as anywhere else.”

Jensen looks at Roque with wide shocked eyes.

“Captain, you know what post-colonial means?”

Roque growls and Clay lays a hand on his arm to stop him from using the big scary knife in his hand. Clay gives Jensen a withering look.

“We’ll be shipping out soon,” he tells them with obvious exasperation, “We are just waiting on the long-range eliminations specialist.”

“The sniper who saved your ass, and mine when those thugs got the drop in us,” Pooch explains as he wraps his stitches, “Just in case you’re too high to understand.”

“I’m not high,” Jensen protests, his argument not helped by the way his words slur.

Pooch rolls his eyes and pats his thigh as he stands.

“Sure you aren’t, buddy.”

Jensen glares. Or at least he hopes he does. He can’t really feel his face right now.

The sniper, Sgt. Carlos Alvarez, had been assigned to them at the start of their most recent mission with the directive that he would arrive after them and provide them cover. It was stupid, a plan like that didn’t allow Jensen time to provide the guy with proper coms, didn’t allow them a chance to actually meet the guy and get a feel if he would blow their heads off since they were completely at his mercy out there.

Plus, Jensen is naturally curious and all he had to work off was the guy's personnel file, which is sparse at best. He's been involved in more redacted operations than Jensen’s had birthdays, girlfriends and broken bones all put together.

But somehow it worked out. They got discovered by the Croatian hit squad and were about to be brain splats on the wall when there was a tiny flash of red and the thugs all went down. He covered them as they hot-footed it out of the compound and down the road till they were out of range, shooting out the tires of the Humvee following them.

It was awesome, Jensen loved the new guy. They were gonna be best friends he had already decided.

Unless he’s of the same mould as Capt. Roque, then they will be merely buddies and not best buddies.

Gravel crunches outside their totally black mold infested safehouse and all the losers pick up their guns and train them on the door. Well, Jensen tries, but his gun is on the coffee table just out of his reach as he stretches for it-

The door opens and the most beautiful man, nay _human being_ that Jensen has ever seen walks through the door. He freezes on the spot, hand halfway to his gun.

He has short black hair that curls up around his jaw, angular handsome features and a pair of watchful brown eyes that Jensen can just see under the brim of his god damned sexy cowboy hat. He’s shorter than Jensen but not by much, with beautiful brown skin. there is a green scarf hanging out of his back pocket and he’s taken off his military issue jacket, so he can see his long wiry muscles. The top of a tattoo peaks out the top of his tank top, and he has his rifled case slung over his shoulder.

Oh god, this is Sgt.  Carlos Alvarez. The sniper who saved their asses. The _sexy_ sniper who saved their asses.

“Take _me_ to _church_!”

Clay sends him a sharp glare and Pooch kicks his chair, sending him sprawling on the floor with a squawk. His glasses go flying god knows where which is just what he needs right now.

“Urgh,” he groans, “Do you guys not remember me being shot like oh say, an hour ago!”

“Keep your ‘don’t tell’ feelings to yourself and you’ll see a whole lot less of the floor, Jay.”

Jensen grimaces. He can’t exactly blame the drugs for saying that out loud. He is powerless against a set of pretty eyes, paired with an amazing set of arms.

A blurry hand appears in front of his face and Jensen clasps it. He gets pulled to his feet and his glasses are slipped back onto his face.

By Sgt. Alvarez.

Who is looking at him with a distinctly amused look on his face.

Competent, kind, sexy killing machine. If he’s good with kids than Jensen’s done for.

“Uh, thanks man,” he says, trying for casual bro but it sort of comes out on a giggle, “I uh- I’m not usually-”

“Yes, you are,” Roque says.

“Fuck off I’m-”

“Leaving,” Clay interrupts with a long-suffering sigh, “Pack up and move out, Losers.”

Clay and Roque file out with Pooch hot on their heels to ready the van.

Jensen limps over and starts shoving his computers and com equipment into his bags. He almost jumps when Alvarez starts to help him.

“Cougar.”

He dose jump at that.

He looks sideways at Alvarez with a confused look.

“Ah … Alsatian?”

Alvarez raises an eyebrow.

“I’m Cougar.”

“Wha- no way dude, no way. You can’t be scary competent at your job, be scary sexy and have the coolest god damned nickname I’ve ever damned heard!”

His brain catches up with his words and he blanches.

“Not … not that I think you’re sexy because I am not telling or asking or doing any kind of coded semaphore in this situation, I’m-”

Alvarez- Cougar, shoves his packed pack into his arms with a definite smirk on his face now.

“I don’t mind.”

Jensen feels floaty and shocked and- if that bullet actually killed him and this is all some kind of pre-death hallucination he doesn’t care.

“O-okay.”

Cougar nods, obviously a man of few words and with one sweeping look up and down Jensen’s body- which does very nice things to Jensen’s insides- he turns and leaves the safehouse.

Jensen stands there for a moment, smiling to himself.

“Oh yeah. I love Croatia, Croatia’s the best.”

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is inspired by my last losers fic 'all decked out like a cowgirls dream' and a comment that cg_reads left on the fic that inspired this fic. Hope you like it i wrote it in an hour!


End file.
